The verge of a coughing fit is near, but good women like me enjoy revolving around naughty actions. I rise above my upper respiratory tragedy and decide to sweat the illness away by twerking out to rhythmic music. This evening I wear a form-fitting black blouse with light gray harem pants. The loose fabric puts me in the mind state of free flow. Also, strangely, I know this now, but never focused on it then, if I want to form a better connection with my glutes they mustn’t be shielded with an undergarment.

So the warm up begins, body temperature is busy with total body dynamic stretches and a various amount of hip circles in every direction. I thrive in the sensation of my muscles and blood heating up and swirling with flaming passion. Already I can sense the beloved charming playfulness and my fierce sexual energy intertwine as one. I throw my hands high in the sky, shuffle my feet to the beat and lose myself to the experience of my heart being musically inclined to the coolness of a down tempo.

My hair is loose, happy-go-lucky and fun just like my attitude. And I can feel the music about to change and lead on it’s up tempo journey and this is where open joy takes place and I forget about the meddling of my chest congestion and need of an asthma pump push. I grin in beautiful amusement and shake my tush like a hypnotic waterbed. I shake it in the vein of wanting an imaginary world to stand at my peppery interest. I shake it with the intent to make the fabric of my blouse stick with sweat to the small of my back and my harem pants dance against its own resolve. Proudly I wiggle my rump like a basic bellydance shimmy. I continue vibrating my bum to turbo achievement without letting any other body part assist.

Except, my body has a habit of working as a unit, so my core tightens on it’s own accord like a watchful warrior as well as my conscious thighs flex because they’re always ready to slay with action. And I continue in a light trance bending over forward similar to a hamstring stretch as I come back up and bend over again and come back up continuously wobbling my bum with a blissful smile on my face. I keep this stance happily for minutes on end before stepping out with a leg and creating a mini circle with my ass still quivering in its womanly flamboyance.

The hips continue side to side during the wobbling effect as I squat down and squat wobbling back up easy like a summer breeze. And it remains intriguing back then while I practiced as now how my butt jiggles with a mind of its own. I start to zone out a bit more and hurl my ass back into the groins of an imaginary person circling deliberately at first, but then building it forceful. In my head, I envision myself a ballerina on a dazzling jewelry box merrily going around and round yet evidently not as graceful, but putting in work as one for I never stop my glute throwback circles until I begin to feel a deep side stitch.

Then I move on and sit in a low squat position, fingers rotated inward so they face and grip the top of my inner thighs. It is here I feel the twerk within the static creases of my traps, triceps, back, core, erector spinae, tush, quads and hamstrings. I arch my hypersensitive back like a cat and lift my glutes upwards slow and drop it back down vigorously so they bounce relaxed and free from care. Gradually I bounce back up and down until the bum makes a synchronized ripple wave effect in all types of speed.

I feel my cough starting to climb and I settle down for a moment with calculated rhythm even as I carry the synchronized effect of the bounce in a smooth slow left and smooth slow right motion. Then I continue in the low squat to jerk my butt up and down while performing a big circle horizontally known by the terminology as around the world. And by this point my heart and lungs are beating in powerful fashion because they’re trying to catch up to the constant jumping of my harem pants and derrière. My legs fatigue under constant tension, but I feel wonderful living for these moments of fitness and body awareness.

I keep at different movements to different rhythmic songs for twenty minutes before I start to head on the floor, arms stretched out, palms on the ground where I brace and arch my lower back and soften my knees in a very high doggie position. My triceps contract hard, core is engaged, but the arch stays high and I once again allow my ass to go to places where it’s unrestricted. I let it tremble by popping it up in the air and dropping it low. I let it quake like someone is behind me letting their engine rev into my behind as I rev mine back at them. I allow my ass to thunder with additional help when I use momentum from my bent legs and shoot the back and bum upwards in a quick succession. I create fascinating hops, beautiful bounces, alluring circles and waves whether delicate or dynamic.

I persist popping the booty until I finally feel like I’m losing the limits of fluidity thirty to sixty minutes later. In between I take a breather, but then I start to wind down when my form starts to break and my lower back is inflamed like I maxed out on a thousand and one deadlifts. I slow it down when my thighs are trembling uncontrollably and I can no longer reach a balance of going back and forth between standing, squatting or bending down. This is where I get on my knees, jiggle extremely and even isolate each cheek separately with muscle control and than together because rather than feel sick and depressed in bed. I rather undergo contentment in unvarying states of movement while getting my fitness in. Plus I mustn’t disappoint my imaginary audience in the process.

P.S.

This would be a twerk level I would love to get to. Watch Lexy Panterra’s Twerk Out.